


painted a picture, i thought i knew you well

by unagis



Series: hey pretty stranger, i think you look cute [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Han Jumin Has Feelings, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Mental Health Issues, One-Sided Attraction, Reader-Insert, Unrequited Love, rika and mc are childhood friends, spoilers for rika's real name and dlc, takes place before canon mysme timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unagis/pseuds/unagis
Summary: If Rika was the Sun, then surely, V must be the Earth, ever blanketed by her warmth. And you, the moon, were but a shadow, one who couldn't shine as bright without the other, forever chasing the Earth but never quite reaching. And Jumin, ever in the love with the moon, could only stare at its reflection as it rippled along the water's edge.Perhaps this kind of love would only ever bloom tragedy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Rika, Jumin, and V.

You find yourself lost in thoughts; drifting listlessly along, mindlessly gazing at the rows of photos stretching from the floor to ceiling. The longer you stared, the more you felt yourself lost in them. The present had little impact on your concept of time as you slowly wandered from picture to picture. Soft green foliage, clear blue waters, and the iridescent, mellow sun stretched high above the sky, enveloping the world in its warmth. If you could just give up yourself, forget the present, would you be able to witness sights like these too? 

A soft but firm grasp on your shoulder shook you out of your reverie; tearing away your eyes with a sharp gasp, you turned away from the enchanting picture only to get lost in a young man's teal eyes. He was beautiful, probably the most beautiful person you've ever met, and you were absolutely starstruck. Soft teal locks that complimented his eyes and pale porcelain skin, he almost looked ethereal, as if he was leagues above the average human. He was _breathtaking_. 

"Can I help you?" you hate the way your voice cracks midway in your speech. You seem so awkward, so ordinary, you wondered if you even belonged to be in his presence. Your hands comfortingly find their way into your large sweater sleeves; you feel bulky, like you stand out, and your hands grow clammy at the thought. 

"You're (Y/n), right?" He said it. He said your  _name_. How did he know? How could he have known?

"Yes, that's me. And you are...?" You relax a bit and remind yourself to breathe. Just breathe, and you'll be alright. Your shoulders lose their tension, and you slowly become anchored to the ground again. You're well aware of your face heating up, but whether you chose to care slipped your mind for a minute, and you brushed back a long lock of hair from obscuring your face, exposing your rosy cheeks. 

"I'm—"

He never gets to finish his sentence because Rika shows up, positively sparkling in the light, and you realize that she's beautiful too. Her blonde hair tumbles down her back like a golden waterfall and her emerald green eyes sparkle so wonderfully that you compare their vibrant color to all the pictures of forestry and foliage you've seen before. There's a framed photograph tucked under her arm, it's smaller than the rest but you just know it's just as beautiful. _Beautiful_ , you seemed to associate that word with a lot of things now. It's a picture of the sky, the pink, fluffy, cotton candy clouds decorate the sky, leaving not a trace of blue in its wake, and the sun, the sun is warm and bright as always, peeking through the very tips of the wispy clouds. But you suppose no sun can compare to Rika's smile because the moment she slows down to a stop, you already know she's beaming. 

"(Y/n)! There you are, I was looking all over for you," she bounds over to you, looking graceful with every step, and you see how genuine her gaze is. Without another word, she presents you with the photograph. Hesitantly, you accept it with confusion; it seems the young man beside you is equally as surprised, but he expresses his shock through a sharp cough. 

"Rika, what is this for?" Your hands resume their trembling around the frame, and you're shaking so much that you fear you may drop the piece due to how nervous you were. 

"I originally intended to keep it for myself," Rika admits with a smile, "there is so much love and warmth that I feel from this picture... but I realized that I wanted you to have it." She clasps her smaller, daintier hands around yours, stilling your trembling, and she looks so serious and so fond when she talks to you that you almost look away because her brightness is _scathing_. "You've inspired me so much, and I realized that I believe this photograph belongs to you much more than it does me. You're like a sister to me, (Y/n), and the warmth and happiness I feel from the picture, I also feel from you."

"I—" you don't trust yourself enough to speak as your breath hitches in your throat. You couldn't accept it, you refused to accept it. You pry your stiff fingers from the picture and curl her fingers around it. When you finally find the courage to speak again, your heart feels like it's thrumming steadily in the back of throat. "I can't, Rika; I can't—This piece means so much to you, I absolutely must refuse."

When Rika smiles again, you lose your will to fight back in the conversation and feel your hands grow lax. 

"Nonsense," she titters lightheartedly, "one day, you'll come to see what I see." Her green eyes dart to the man beside you, who had gone awfully quiet during the exchange, and her face lifts up once again. "I see you've met V, the photographer of this gallery." 

And, just like that, you feel your heart stutter to a stop. 

"I'm sorry—I didn't—" you stammering now, and you can't bring yourself to look at his gorgeous teal eyes. "I mean, it must've been so rude of me, I—"

"It's alright," he reassures, and you feel the urge to collapse in relief because he's not upset with you for not knowing who he was. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself. I'm Jihyun Kim, but everyone calls me V."

Jihyun. Even his name was beautiful. 

You swallow your nerves, tucking the frame under your arm as you reached out the other tentatively to shake his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Jihyun. I'm (Y/n) (L/n)."

"I know, Rika's told me a bit about you. Would you like to join us for coffee after the exhibit?"

Rika's hopeful gaze almost made you cave in, but you had other things to attend to in the evening. 

"I would love to, but I need to get back early so I could continue with a couple of paintings I've started..."

"Of course! You mentioned about a big project for your living room, which was why I wasn't allowed to come over the past few weeks. Are you almost finished with that?" Rika speaks up, the curiosity in her voice not going unnoticed by Jihyun. 

"I'm not," you sigh tiredly, shifting the picture so that it was in a more comfortable position, "but I've finished enough that you're welcome to come over and take a look, if you'd want."

"Of course I'll stop by, I'll give you a call when I'm available."

"Alright... anyways, I have to get going now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jihyun. Perhaps, this won't be the only time we'll meet," you keep your tone light and gaze hopeful, but you're too embarrassed to actually meet him in the eyes. 

"I have a feeling it won't be, but, just in case..." He held out a hand, and you handed him the picture inquisitively as he fished out a marker from his coat pocket. After a few, fleeting seconds, he capped the marker back and returned the print. "Give me a call some time."

Along with his signature, one with his full name rather than the cursive V he signed all his pictures with, there was a scribbled line of numbers which you figured was his personal phone number. Your cheeks warmed at the thought. 

"Thank you, Jihyun."

"You're welcome."

As you bid the duo goodbye, you couldn't help the fluttering of your heart as you left the art gallery behind. You don't think you would ever tire of saying his name. 


	2. Chapter 2

You sat curled up comfortably in a cushioned chair you bought for your veranda overlooking the city's nightscape. The cool evening air caressed your face and brushed through your hair, which was pinned up in a messy bun with the help of a few stray paintbrushes you found lying around. Your fingers curled appreciatively around a ceramic mug of chamomile tea, the warmth comforting your numbing fingers. You stared off into the horizon, the flashing reds, blues, greens, and whites of the city illuminated in your eyes. A soft knock from the front door was enough to break you from your trance, and you unfurled yourself, setting your mug aside on the small wooden table, and stepped back inside to open the front door. 

"Rika!" you exclaimed in surprise, stepping back from the door and widening it a bit, "... And Jihyun, um, what brings the two of you here? Please, come inside. Pardon the mess, by the way, I haven't gotten around to putting away my supplies yet."

You opened the door enough for the two of them to step inside before locking it behind them. You heard Rika's excited gasp from behind you, and you just barely caught her coat before she bounded down the hall into your living room. Jihyun followed a step behind, an apologetic smile playing on his lips, as he assisted you in hanging up Rika's and his coats on the rack. 

"You never called," he accused, but his tone was warm and playful that you laughed in response. 

"I suppose I didn't. It must've slipped my mind."

The thought of calling him left your mind the past few days you were busy with painting; however, the thought _of_ him never left. There's a comfortable silence when you finish organizing everything, and Jihyun waits until you're finished before he starts to walk into your living room. 

"Are you not cold?" he inquired, walking by your side after Rika. 

"Oh, no, not really," you mumble admittedly, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. "I get so absorbed in my work that hardly anything else bothers me anymore."

You suppose it was rather cold tonight, but you've been so lost in thought that the temperature hardly affected you. Your loose fitting cotton white t-shirt was dyed and spattered with paint from all the times you've never bothering to change once you got working, and it was paired with a pair of grey sweatpants, complete with the drawstring tied into a bow in the front and different shades of blue patches of paint. 

He stops suddenly, taking both your hands, which are covered with small band-aids and different colors of flaking paint, in his warmer ones. Curiously, your eyes look up as if inquiring, searching his clearer teal eyes that seemed to ripple like the waves on the sandy shores of the beach in summer, and you find yourself drowning, so lost in the beauty that is him to think of anything else, but then your mind wanders to your forgotten mug sitting on its lonesome and realize that your tea must be getting cold by now. You notice how nicely your palms seem to fit in his, and you wonder if anything else would ever feel as perfect as this moment. He looks like he wants to say something, but as soon as he opens his mouth—to which you wonder if anybody else in the world would ever look as pretty as him—Rika speaks up, and the magic is lost. 

"Jihyun," she comes racing back, breathless, and he quickly lets go of your hands, the warmth fading fast, "you need to see this!"

She then leaves just as quickly as she came, her long blonde hair trailing after her like a tapestry of silk. Jihyun looks like he still has something to say, but the words seem to die in his throat, and he shoots you a quick, apologetic smile instead. He slowly unravels the soft black scarf around his neck and draped it around yours, making sure it was tucked in properly. It smelled like him, sage and lavender. 

"Take more care of yourself, okay?" he says before following Rika's path with hurried steps.

You still don't know if he was referring to your hands, covered in callouses and bruises, or the fact his touch sent goosebumps up and down your arms. Sighing dreamily, you bury your nose deep into the scarf, savoring the lingering warmth of the pleasant and soft material, before slowly walking the rest of the way into your living room. The first thing you see is the clear glass doors to your balcony, with the curtains still open, exposing the bright and luminous city lights.

Your gaze then trains to both Rika and Jihyun, stunned into silence at the large mural covering the walls of your living room, unfinished but still enchanting nonetheless. The sweeping landscape captures you instantly, the blues of shadows and soft yellow tones of the lights of the city, while the crescent moon, stretched high in the sky but unfinished, is accompanied by painted stars that still needed their glow. 

Rika is the first to speak after all the silence. "Did you paint all this by yourself? It's incredible."

"Yes," you said, feeling a bit flustered now that all the attention was on you, "it took awhile, and I'm still not done, but it's progress." 

"When Rika first introduced you, she said you were a talented artist. This, truly, exceeds all my expectations," Jihyun adds earnestly, and his comment sends you into a rush of euphoria. 

"Thanks you two. I appreciate it."

"Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh, is that right? You always had a knack for these sorts of things," Rika smiles. "I can't wait to see your living room when it's finished."

A quiet, "Me too," leaves your lips before you suddenly clap your hands together animatedly. "Right! You guys are my guests, can I get you something to drink? I have tea, coffee, and hot chocolate...? If that's your preference."

Rika, now situated comfortably on your couch three feet away from the wall to keep it clean, spoke first, "Tea, please." 

"Of course, the usual, right? If I remember, you liked my hibiscus and citrus mix, I'll get right to it. Jihyun, you want anything?"

"I'll have the same as Rika, thank you." 

"Of course, I'll be right back." 

You smile politely before disappearing behind the safety of your kitchen. There's a steady beating your your heart underneath your fingertips, and you bury your face in the scarf to muffle the rapidly spreading blush growing on your cheeks. Jihyun was dangerous, you realized. You needed to stay on alert or else you'll end up falling so fast that you'll be swept off your feet and left dizzy. 

Quickly, you settled on making the tea, boiling the water in the teapot you had painted yourself as one of your first art projects. The pictures depicted were crudely drawn, as if by an elementary child, but you smiled fondly at the memories it carried along its surface. The teapot was the first art-related activity you participated in during your years at school, it was also around the time when you met Rika. Those were lighter times coupled by more cheerful memories; the past was full of simpler times, when times haven't grown so complicated.

The light whistle brought you back to the present, and you added a couple of dried hibiscus blossoms and thin orange and lemon slices into the water, watching the way the petals slowly unfurled and danced about, not quite as pretty as when they were alive, but a bewitching sight to behold. After a few minutes, you poured the tea into two plain ceramic mugs, that you haven't gotten around to decorating, before stepping into the living room. Jihyun had positioned himself comfortably by Rika's side, and you watched the way Rika's eyes practically twinkled under the bright lights as she pointed out things for the photographer to see. The both of them were smiling and laughing freely, and you felt yourself numb. Rika looked so happy, so _free_ , who were you to take away that? 

Ignoring the way your heart constricted in your chest, you lightly tapped the side of the wall with your elbow. The two of them turn around at the noise, and Rika drops the arm she had been holding up, probably pointing out something you had painted on the walls. Jihyun directs his smile towards you, its soft and comforting, but you only feel distress seeping into your bones. You tear your gaze away from his oceanic depths, and direct your eyes towards Rika again. Raising the two mugs, you attempt to smile, even if it seems a bit forced. 

"Tea's done now."


	3. Chapter 3

The night Rika and Jihyun paid you a visit in the evening had long become a distant dream—a haunting fantasy—of the past that you longed to return to but simply couldn't. Easy days came and gone. The days shifted to weeks, the weeks to months, and you felt yourself slowly growing more and more detached to the reality around you. Things changed, warped, distorted too quickly for you to process anything, but it was alright, you grew used to the change as the world twisted upon itself around you. It was then that you've grown to despise change; you hated it, loathed it even. 

As you painted, each brushstroke telling the viewers about you—your story.

In your mind, you replayed the small talks at cafes, where the smell of rich coffee permeated the air, the soft sounds of chatter filled the atmosphere, and the delightful rush of sugar that made you feel just as giddy as when Jihyun turned to look at you laughing at something Rika said with his alluring aquamarine gaze.

Your mind wanders to the rainy days spent at the library, where hushed whispers and bits of conversation were shared, the musty smell of weathered paper of books aged beyond their years, and you flipped through each book absentmindedly, wondering just whose story you should paint next.

Then you think back at the sunny days spent wandering the botanical gardens, when dandelion fuzz floated through the air with every passing breeze, the birds soared high in the cloudless sky above you, and Jihyun, who at the time had brought his camera with him, snapped pictures occasionally. 

Things are different now, you realize, and it's not that you don't appreciate the difference, it just all feels foreign to you.

The steady rhythm you've been accustomed to following was tuned out of beat, and you find yourself dancing to a song you don't know the notes to. As you grew increasingly more busy as the dates of different art exhibits began to approach, Rika continued doing volunteer work with her younger cousin—you think his name is Yoosung, he's a cute little boy with pretty amethyst eyes and brown hair, and Jihyun slowly distanced himself as well in order to take trips to capture new moments in time.

That's why, when the news finally reached you, it never really stuck. 

"We're together now," Rika had brought up one day in mid-conversation, when she had the time to stop by.

What were you even talking about that day? Oh, right. The Sun. Your fingers, grasping the paintbrush ever so delicately in your grip, slipped a bit. If she noticed, she never said anything, and you leaned yourself back to examine the painting for any mistakes; there were no flaws.

"Is that so?" you hum out before smiling lightly, the light never quite reached your eyes. "Congratulations."

There wasn't much to be said afterwords because whatever Rika talked about later was lost in the recesses of your mind. So Jihyun and Rika were dating now, you didn't really feel anything towards them—no jealousy, no bitterness, no animosity, but even still, you were convinced that your feelings were real, genuine. You traced over the almost finished painting with a skilled eye; there was something off about the atmosphere. It was stuffy, overwhelming, _consuming_. The sun, shining ever bright in the baby blue painted sky, was nothing short of oppressive. 

Pursing your lips together, you set the painting aside and brought out another blank canvas to start anew. Rika, now halting in what she was saying, glances quizzically at the set aside piece with a frown.

As if you guessed what she was going to ask, you dipped your brush in the canary yellow. "I didn't like how it turned out, that's all."

She looks like she still has something to say, there's this serious look in her eyes as she studies your failed painting for reasons to justify it. Heaving a small sigh, you set down your paintbrush in the cup of water before turning to face Rika, holding the painting in your hands for her to clearly study. 

"What do you see when you look at this?" 

"Love," she responds quickly, not wasting even a second. "I feel the warm love of the sun as it shines down."

"But, look," you point out, tracing over the paint with a finger, "the sun is darker than normal. The light that feels so warm and comforting is now hellfire, charring everything in its wake. You claim it's love, but this is unbridled passion, desire so strong it will burn you alive."

"I see."

"To love unconditionally like the sun," you continue, "is to provide light to those who need it the most, to guide those who are lost."

"Love as unconditional as the sun..." Rika trails off, before facing you with a twinkle in her eyes that seemed akin to fascination. "You've always had such a beautiful way with words."

You smile, only this time it's genuine, and you say, "I only learned from the best."

Rika laughs joyously, her laugh sounding like tinkling bells, and you almost forget about the crying girl who locked herself in the dark all those years ago. The sunlight is filtering through your curtains and spilling onto the living room floor, bathing the room in golden light. The breeze flitted in through the open window, shifting the curtains and combing through your hair. The air is warm but not too hot, as expected of early autumn. It's a lovely day.

Almost as if reading your thoughts, Rika traces your stare back to the open window, "Do you want to take a break? It's been a couple hours."

A part of you didn't want to believe that much time had passed already, but a quick glance at the clock told you everything you knew. You weighed your options, staring back at the first beginnings of the sun on your canvas to the open sky outside. A break would be nice. Setting the old painting aside, you stood up and wiped whatever leftover paint was on your hands on a towel nearby. 

"I'll get changed, and then we can grab something to eat."

"Okay, I'll be waiting," she said, and you quickly ducked into your room to pick up an outfit. 

In contrast to the rest of your apartment, your room is untouched. The original light beige, almost cream, colored walls and the equally painted ceiling remained free of your creativity. Your bed was propped in one corner, across from the window, and there was a desk that seemed almost devoid of anything except of few sketches you had done on your free time. The cork board on your wall littered with various drawings and notes was the only decoration besides the photograph Rika had gifted you from Jihyun's exhibit. 

Jihyun's scarf from that night a long, long time ago, remained folded neatly on your chair. You haven't touched it since that night, and he never asked for it back, so it remained there. It shouldn't matter anymore, you remind yourself, things were changing and people were moving on. You should at least have the courage to do the same. However, even after you quickly get dressed and leave the room and memories behind, you can't stop the feeling of your heart sinking. 

When you make it to the front door, Rika is already waiting for you and smoothing down her dress. With a beam, she exits first with a skip in her step, and you follow shortly after, closing the door quietly behind you. 


End file.
